


Subtle (the hunter/prey remix)

by akire_yta



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronon thinks he's being subtle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subtle (the hunter/prey remix)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the SGA remix challenge - remix of [Subtle](http://remix.illuminatedtext.com/dbfiction.php?fiction_id=360%22) by panisdead.

Ronon sniffed the air, poised on the threshold, relaxed and ready. These people he had found himself among seemed so reliant on sight they often forget they possessed other senses. He could smell the delicate tea Teyla brewed for those she cared for, a dominant, fragrant note, almost but not quite masking the mingled scents of a dozen others who had all passed through this room in the past hour.

Two options, then. He shifted his weight slowly across the balls of his feet, considering. He trusted his instincts, honed by the constant pressures of running. Decision - made: he turned on the spot and strode back out and across the concourse that linked this room with the main control area.

He ignored the studiously bowed heads of the handful of people in the control room. He had already learnt enough of the rhythms of this place to know they were fresh to their posts, and could tell him nothing of his prey. He was on his own, again.

Taking the stairs to the Gate room floor two at a time, he curved sharply and plunged into the relative gloom of an interior corridor. Hunting prey in a city could be harder than in a wild place - the tracks were fainter, no scuffs or broken branches to signal the way. On the other hand, the strictly sealed and mapped corridors dictated that there were only so many paths his prey could take.

The skill lay in choosing the right one.

He chose his own path with care, avoiding the traps (the man with the crazy hair who yelled at him every time he entered McKay's domain), observing favoured grounds (a wolfish grin to the females training there; a gesture in reply he'd never seen but still clearly understood - in some matters, there were few differences even across galaxies).

Last refuge of the hunted. The bowed cavern of the jumper bay arched to an apex far above his head. He counted slowly, half-hidden in the shadows of the doorway, until all the craft were accounted for. No escape that way.

Soft breathing and softer footsteps. He turned, offered a curt nod of recognition. As always, Teyla was unperturbed. "Are you looking for something?"

"Someone. Sheppard."

Teyla's smile lost a layer of its normally impenetrable façade. "Ahh. I believe he is otherwise occupied at the moment." She tilted her head, her eyes knowing. "Dr McKay was attempted to persuade him to assist in some Ancient research, but Lieutanent Colonel Sheppard required slightly more..."

"Persuasion?"

She nodded again, slowly, her eyes sliding off his face to look past him at the row of jumpers. Ronon half-turned, looked closer. Barely visible through the glass screen were the flicker of two shadows.

There was much about these people he didn't understand, but some things it seemed were universal.

"You wished to train?" He turned back and was caught by the light of amusement dancing in Teyla's eyes. "I am not the Colonel, but perhaps I may be of assistance?" She took half a step back, the challenge clear in her posture. "At least until he is less...distracted?"

Ronon grunted his assent and strode past her towards the transporter at the end of the hall. As he stepped into the boxy space, he turned to see Teyla lingering by the door to the jumper bay. Confused, thinking perhaps he had misread her invitation, he took a half-step back the way he came, stopped, and laughed.

Teyla slipped by him, holding the door open just long enough for him to join her, leaving behind a well-used hand-made 'occupied' sign swinging against the closed bay doors.


End file.
